


It's Still Not My Fault!

by mitsukai613



Series: Fault Series [2]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had no way of knowing that the hydra was supposed to be there, honest! And the boat wasn't even that nice to begin with; a little charring can only make it look better! And John was the one who'd invited him out to dinner and therefore necessitated his trip to the boat anyway! So honestly, how could this possibly be blamed (in its entirety, at least) on him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Still Not My Fault!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's the sequel to It's Not My Fault that I promised forever ago; hopefully it at least somewhat lives up to his predecessor. As for why this (and anything else I post today) is being posted today rather than on Wednesday, and, you know, after I finish with the main unfinished fic I'm currently working on, I sort of stumbled upon this, already finished, on my computer, and a couple of other things, again, already finished, that I'd posted on fanfiction.net already and forgotten to crosspost here. Probably this won't happen again anytime soon, but hey, consider it a treat, I guess.

                So, you know how the whole “aphrodisiac on Little Chicago” thing wasn’t my fault, like, at all? Yeah, this wasn’t either, no matter what a certain mob boss in a certain city might say. I coughed. A little smoke was still coming out. Johnny sat beside me, bridge of his nose pinched between thumb and forefinger, the most longsuffering noise I’d ever heard having just come out of his mouth. I coughed again; I didn’t think there was enough mouthwash in the world to get the charcoal taste off my tongue.

                “ _Harry_ -,” he began, but I cut him off.

                “Shut _up_.” He almost smiled, I know he did, no matter what he said later. “It wasn’t my fault.” His cheek twitched. I think he might’ve been just the slightest bit annoyed.

                “I honestly fail to see how I could possibly place blame upon anyone else when you are the only person here, and I happen to recall you having a certain propensity for fire that I’ve yet to see in anyone else.” Okay, that was a decent point, I could admit, and I did understand where his confusion was coming from, but that certainly did not make what had happened at all my fault, and I told him as much. He heaved a heavy sigh and finally just sat down. I resisted the urge to tell him that he would get his fancy suit all dirty and flopped down beside him. “Why don’t you tell me what happened then?” he requested, and I know I blushed, like, immediately. I wanted to explain this one almost as little as I’d wanted to explain my last… mishap, but at least it wasn’t quite as bad. Not to say it wasn’t bad, obviously, but I don’t think much can compare to accidentally starting a citywide orgy.

                See, he’d called me that morning at my office, right, asking to meet for dinner, and I’d remembered that my only good suit just happened to be on his boat from the last time he’d brought me out on it. So, I’d gone to get it, like any perfectly normal, sane human being would do. And then, well… look, in my defense, I have dealt with hydras before, and I know how nasty they can get if they grow too much, so really I was just working for the benefit of everyone when the whole fire thing happened.

                I’d grabbed the suit and was on my way off the boat when I saw it, just kind of staring at me in the water. Looking back on it, I probably should’ve questioned why, exactly, it was swimming in the shallow waters of John’s personal docks when there was a whole Lake Michigan pretty close by. Again, though, in my defense, hydras are not fun, and this one was giving me a look that spoke of many of the not-at-all-fun activities hydras enjoy partaking in with humans. I only intended to give it a little sting, honest, just enough to get it into deeper waters where I knew it wouldn’t bother anyone, but I’d forgotten that my blasting rod was in my coat, which I’d left at my office when I went to get the suit, and before I knew it, I’d already cast the spell and, given my lack of focus, my fire did what any directionless fire would do: burn stuff, including but not limited to what I intended to burn. The boat was among this collection of stuff, and the hydra was not what I would call happy, to say the least.

                Really I had no way of knowing that the hydra was supposed to be there, so honestly if anyone was to blame it was John for not telling me he had hydra protective services for his boat. His really, really flammable boat, which, again, also his fault. After I explained all that, he looked really, incredibly unimpressed. He then proceeded to prod at a section of the former boat that looked mostly intact, only to have it crumble a little under his fingers. I squirmed; he sighed.

                “You know, Sigrun is going to be quite upset that her hydra was hurt.”

                “Why does the Nordic Valkyrie have a Grecian monster for a pet, John? Really this just doesn’t make any sense.” He raised an eyebrow, laughing quietly and shaking his head, and honestly I was just shocked he wasn’t more upset with me.

                “Ask her that, not me. Of course, were I you I’d wait until her particular brand of anger was soothed, else you’ll find yourself made quite uncomfortable. She holds grudges like no one else, or so Nathan tells me. By the way, I’d thought that once I made you mine, I wouldn’t have to worry about mysterious fires on my property anymore. Does this come with the package, may I ask?” I had to laugh myself, then, at the amusement light in his eyes.

                “Hey, call it a bonus! It was kind of an ugly boat anyway.”

                “I rather liked it, actually. In any case, though I’m certain my insurance people are close to killing me and have severely limited their coverage in regards to acts of God in the time I’ve known you, I can likely get a better one now. Come on; you’re filthy, so we’ll order in tonight instead. I’ll give our reservations to Sigrun and Nathan. Perhaps it’ll start you on the road to forgiveness.” I snorted, taking the arm he offered me easily (and man had it taken a long time to get there) and letting him show me where he’d parked the car. He had finally learned that I could open a damn car door myself, though, so honestly that was why I gave him a little more slack on some of the other dumb stuff he did, like giving me his arm.

                “Where are we going?”

                “An apartment. I gave most of my people the night off, so the mansion will be more crowded than you like.” I nodded; I still found it a little hard to believe how used to all this I’d gotten, how used to John himself I’d gotten. Thomas told me sometimes that he was still kicking himself for ever leaving my apartment that morning. John, when I mentioned it to him, would only grin like he’d won something by annoying Thomas. How the hell they can manage to be so alike and still hate each other I’ll never know, but hey, I don’t claim to know how either of them think.

                “Sounds good to me.” And that was getting too easy too, just agreeing to go places with him like that, like he couldn’t do anything to me. Trusting him was strange; I wasn’t entirely sure if I liked it yet, but it was the sort of thing I couldn’t do much about at that point. I mean, I couldn’t exactly just stop trusting him with no reason, and he seemed to be pretty adept at simply not giving me that reason. It was one of his more annoying talents.

                We ended up at the apartment he’d apparently decided on without much trouble, beyond him hissing out a couple of curses at other drivers, which I’d never expected was something he’d do before I started riding with him so often. Apparently it was why Hendricks normally drove. It wasn’t one of the nicest places he owned, by any means, but it was where he normally brought me when his actual house wasn’t an option, like then. He’d offered it to me more permanently more than once, I assume as some kind of stepping stone to get me to move in with him completely, but I don’t think he understood quite how much I liked my apartment, or why I did.

                It was, after all, the first place I’d had that was really mine, bought and paid for with my own money. It had my lab and my books and my knick knacks and my pets. It was mine, and I didn’t really want to give it up for something of John’s, mostly because I didn’t want to feel like I was with him for his money. Hell’s Bells, it was already enough trouble fending off the constant meals and clothes and stuff, and it was getting more and more difficult to get work from even SI the more time I spent with him. Not that Murphy didn’t throw me a bone whenever she could, but she knew how suspicious it was even though she also knew I wasn’t actually in his pocket. His hand on my lower back made me jerk, and I saw him flash a smirk a moment before he hid it away.

                “Harry? You look troubled.” I snorted.

                “Just thinking, Johnny. Don’t worry about it; hey, what’re we ordering?” I know he didn’t want to drop it; he was obvious about that much, at least, even though chances were he was being that way on purpose.

                “What would you like?” At least he did drop it, though, despite not wanting to. It was one reason why I liked him, despite him being a scumbag bastard on the best of days.

                “There’s a pretty nice place about a block from here, right? There should be fine.” He nodded, and I dropped onto the big couch he had set up in the main room. Nearly all the appliances he’d had in this place had been taken out a few months earlier, I guess for me. He did insist on keeping the hot water heater, though how the hell he was managing to keep fixing it I didn’t know. I mean, Eb wasn’t poor by any means, even if he liked to play at it sometimes, and even he couldn’t afford to keep on repairing them.

                He still looked a little awkward using the older phone he’d set up for me here, though; too used to his fancy cell phones, I guess. Still, he got it done, and it was still weird having him know me well enough to order for me. At least, when he called Hendricks afterwards, his right hand seemed pleased with getting the reservations. And overly amused at why he was getting them, because of course he was. He’d probably be commenting on it for months, and I’d really have to reach to get something to tease him for in return; he’d been more careful around me lately.

                He shrugged his suit jacket off and settled it over the back of a chair, and his tie followed quickly so he could undo the first few buttons on his shirt. He settled beside me easily at that point, arm draped over my shoulders and legs crossed at the knee. It was so familiar that I was certain a dragon was going to tear off the top of the building within ten minutes. He tilted his head to look at me, smiling faintly and shaking his head like I’d amused him.

                “It still amazes me how odd you find any sort of normalcy, Harry. Relax, nothing’s going to happen.” I laughed.

                “Yeah, well, when you get involved in the kinds of things I do, normal starts to feel pretty abnormal. Stars, just look at how we ended up here, together like this!”

                “And yet you still don’t take credit for it,” he said, still smiling, and I could only grin in response.

                “That’s because it was the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me, John.”

                “It turned out well enough.”

                “Says you; you got what you wanted.” He laughed, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

                “Ah, yes, you got such an awful deal, didn’t you? Here I was thinking you actually cared for me as well.” I shrugged.

                “You’re alright, I guess. I’ve got to say, though, I was always hoping for the beautiful princess I rescued from a dragon. Really too bad Michael was the one who got that, but then again he is the Knight.” Honestly I don’t think he was entirely sure what to say to that, but then I couldn’t really blame him for that. To be entirely truthful, that’s kind of a common state for people in my company. I pride myself in the skill; really I have no idea why other people aren’t as impressed by it.

                “Harry, I’ll admit Mrs. Carpenter is quite pretty, but I’d think you’re exaggerating a bit. Now, however, if you’d like a dragon rescue that badly, I suppose I could get kidnapped by one for you, though I generally try not to go stumbling headlong into such situations. That’s usually closer to your skillset.” I pursed my lips at him, trying to imagine ever rescuing him from a dragon and instead getting one of him performing a massive coup with the dragon’s allies and stealing his tower, possibly all while wearing a pretty, fluffy pink dress. I shook my head to clear the image and vowed to never think of it again, because it kind of horrified me as much as it made me want to cackle like the madman most people thought I was.

                “Seriously? You haven’t heard the story of how they met yet? Well, I guess you wouldn’t have, seeing as how Charity hates you and all, but it seems like the sort of thing you’d make it a point to know. Charity, when she was younger, got into some trouble with some pretty bad guys from my side of the tracks, and the leader tried to sacrifice her to a dragon. Michael came in, Knight in Shining Armor that he is, and ended up killing it to save her. Like I’ve always said, they’ve got a fairytale romance.” He actually looked interested, and really I should’ve known better than to tell him anything he hadn’t figured out for himself already. It made him curious to know more.

                “She doesn’t seem the sort to get involved with any who could be considered ‘bad,’ much less ones from the supernatural side of things.” I knew he was milking me for information, then, and normally I would’ve called him on it (mostly since when he did it normally, he was trying to get things about me) but right then, I didn’t see much harm in giving him what he wanted.

                “She wasn’t always a stay at home mother of a gaggle of children, John. You should know that people change. She came from a pretty wealthy family, actually, and had some trouble that got her involved with that cult. I figure Molly right now is probably a whole lot like she was then.” I knew he’d picked up on what I was trying to say, that she’d had magic, from the shocked look he gave me, and nodded a little. “She thinks Michael doesn’t know, but I figure he probably does and just never mentioned it. He could feel it on me the moment he met, after all; he could probably feel it on her back then too. Still, it’s her place to tell him, not ours, so keep quiet about it, and if you ever say I told you, I’ll deny it.”

                “That’s why Molly can…,” he said, gesturing in a way that I assume meant “do magic.”

                “Yeah. It doesn’t always have to come from the parents, obviously, so I didn’t assume it at first, but it’s a whole hell of a lot more common that it does, and it has to be somewhere in the line even if not directly from the parents or grandparents. It gets less common the more diluted the blood becomes, but it still happens occasionally; sometimes it can even bring about some pretty big talents. Charity hasn’t used hers for so long that it’s withered to where she can’t use it now, but it’s still in the blood. She’ll have to keep an eye on the other kids as they get older.”

                “I’d imagine so. Your mother was a talent herself, was she not? Or at least that’s what I gather from the little I’ve heard.” Yeah, that was what I was more used to. Should’ve figured he’d figure out a way to steer it towards something he wanted to know about that I’d yet to reveal.

                It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, honest; I did, dumb as that might sound. Like I said, he hadn’t done anything to make me stop. It was more I just didn’t want him to know because I knew how he was and how he’d react. He already hated the Council for the things he saw now, and I knew that he had a few plans in the works to take them down just like I knew that he’d eventually ask me for help to do it. I didn’t want to give him more reasons to rush those plans; they feared mortal force just like everyone else in the supernatural world, but they still wouldn’t hesitate to kill him and he wasn’t ready to stand against them yet, even with all his people and all his power.

                I didn’t want him to look at me differently either, and I kind of worried that he would. Wizard with the big black coat and the mysterious past is a lot more threatening, and probably a lot more interesting, than what actually happened. Probably I’d let him figure it out one day, sure, just not then.

                “Huh? Yeah, she was. Not very important, though.” He knew I was lying. Stones, pretty much everyone knew when I was lying, even when I told one of the ones I’d spoken enough that they came more easily than the truth. He still didn’t press me about it, though, I guess because he knew that if he did, even if he managed to get me to talk (which was becoming more likely day by day the more time I spent with him) I’d be angry afterwards. We stayed quiet for a while, then, him just pulling me lightly against him, and I relaxed with embarrassing ease. We’d spent more than one night like that, just being with each other. I’d missed the sensation of that, after Susan. I still found it a little weird that he took comfort in it too, but then again, he liked proving to me just how human he was.

                The food came without incident and we ate on the couch; obviously he was trying to get something out of me, because otherwise he’d have insisted we go to the table. Or maybe he just wanted to sit close to me that night too, I don’t know; it had been about a week since we’d seen each other, seeing as how he was off gallivanting on some kind of business trip. I hadn’t asked if it was his legitimate business or his other kind, mostly because I didn’t really want to know.

                I’d accepted his place as the Gentleman as part of him, and I knew what he did was necessary; in a way, even when I said I hated him, I’d always known that. Still, it didn’t mean I liked it, or liked the fact that it was necessary. I wouldn’t have been able to turn a blind eye if he mentioned it to me too often, I knew that; he did too, I guess. Not that I thought we could go on for forever that way, but… well, it was enough for right then, and if something happened later, we’d deal with it later. I slid over a little so I could drop my head on his shoulder, and he blinked down at me as he finished the last of what was on his plate.

                “You really are in a strange mood today, Harry. If this is about the boat, I’m not upset.” I nodded and felt him jerk a little; my hair had probably tickled him or something.

                “I know. Like I said, it wasn’t my fault anyway, so how could you be upset. Plus, like I also said, it was a really ugly boat anyway.” He sighed.

                “But you won’t tell me what’s actually bothering you?”

                “I’m fine. Normally you don’t complain so much if I want to be near you.”

                “I’m not complaining, but you’re not acting like yourself. Generally that means something particularly world ending is about to happen.” Yeah, he did know me too well.

                “Nah, not this time. I’m just in a weird mood; if I were you, I’d enjoy it while it lasts.” I kissed his neck to emphasize my point, and his hand at my shoulder tensed for a second before he pulled me a little closer still.   

                “I suppose so. Still, Harry, if you’re troubled, please do talk to me. I’d rather not be kept in the dark about such things.” I smiled against his skin, nodding again and feeling way more comforted and comfortable than I should have, but hey, I’ve never been one to really do what I should. Wasn’t in my nature, never had been.

                Reassured by that thought, I sat up and kissed his lips instead, let him tilt me backwards until I was on my back across the couch with him above me. That my feet didn’t hang off the end still shocked me a little.

                “Man, John, this couch is the only reason I’ve ever thought about moving in here. I might break in and steal it soon.” He laughed against my mouth, kissing me again as his hands slid under my shirt, expert and light. Stars and Stones but he’d had too much practice.

                “As if you could even fit it through your apartment’s door.” I shrugged, letting my own arms settle around his back, thumbs brushing the back of his neck.

                “I could shrink it.”

                “And make your apartment itself bigger, right?”

                “Well, maybe. I _am_ magical, John,” I said, not even bothering to take my own self seriously. He nodded as if he were actually being thoughtful and finally managed to push my shirt up and off. This was familiar too; I’d gotten oddly used to him wanting me this way no matter how strange it had been at first. Besides, it sure as hell wasn’t like I didn’t get anything out of it; he was nothing if not… thorough, and he always made sure I got mine too.

                So, I mostly just let him do what he wanted. Not all of it, obviously (I was pretty sure I’d die from embarrassment before I managed some of the stuff he’d _talked_ about when he was under the influence of the results of The Incident), but a lot of it. Well, he never complained, anyway.

                Some of it, though, some of it honestly still scared me a little, more out of just having never done it or seen it than thinking he’d hurt me. I knew he wouldn’t, mentally; if he wanted to do that, he wouldn’t be with me. I knew that much about him, after all; he didn’t hurt people by getting close to them because he was nothing if not honest.

                Mostly we’d stuck to familiar territory, things I knew about, things I’d done before; he’d used his fingers on me before, but that was all, and he didn’t always do that. Today, though… I sighed at the touch of his hand on my chest, spanning wide, fingers brushing over one nipple just firmly enough to make me hiss against his mouth. I clenched my own hands in the back of his shirt, my legs tangling around his as if to keep him where he was. Apparently I did that a lot when we slept in the same bed, too, except I held him still with my arms too. Lucky me, he didn’t seem to mind, even though he did tease me about it, I assume just because he’s a dick and doesn’t want me to forget that fact.

                “I’d never dispute you being magical, Harry, but I imagine making that place any larger is beyond even your ability. I expect you’d need rather a large team of architects, interior designers, and possibly a few angels.” He’d moved his mouth down to my jaw, and had apparently decided that nipping and sucking at the skin there between words would be the best thing to do. I wriggled underneath him, tilting my head to one side to give him more room, and he pressed a little closer in response. I laughed; we’d gone through this song and dance more than once, and we both knew our parts well. I couldn’t help but take pleasure in the ridiculous familiarity of it all.

                “Smarmy bastard,” I grumbled, like I was really upset, like I would ever fall for him just because he called me “magical” and took part in my stupid situations with nothing more than teasing.

                “You love it,” he answered, and I could feel him grin the grin he only very rarely actually showed me against the line of my jaw before he let his mouth slide a little further down, to my neck. I snorted quietly, my fingers clenching rhythmically in the fabric of his shirt.

                “Maybe a little.” I felt him laugh more than I heard it, warm breath puffing against my neck as his hands moved more firmly over my chest, now more actively trying to bring pleasure as he nibbled light marks against my skin. Normally, I might’ve at least commented on it somehow, seeing as how it was a pain to cover them up when they were above the neckline of everything I owned, but I’d kind of decided to let him slide this time, seeing as how he hadn’t expressed many of his other particularly annoying traits recently, and I _had_ at least had a hand in the destruction of his boat, so… well, I could feel bad even if it wasn’t actually my fault, right? Besides, it wasn’t like it felt bad getting them, it was just a pain in my ass afterwards, and I’d never been known to make rational decisions based upon later consequences; I’m more of a gut instinct sort of guy. Beyond a few select situation’s, Johnny’s always been the planner.

                I sighed; his thumb brushed my nipple again, so soft I might’ve thought he’d done it accidentally had I not known the bastard as well as I did. I jolted and he bit down hard on the juncture between my neck and shoulder, just once, where he always did, where I’d agreed to let him. I hissed, my toes curling a little in my boots as he licked the little hurt and moved on, him easily disregarding the hold I had on the back of his shirt to slide, unfairly sinuous, down my body. My head tilted back as his mouth descended on my chest, warm, still familiar, tongue licking where his thumb had been before. I clutched with one hand at the back of his neck and the let the other squeeze the cushions of the couch, my teeth gritting together hard to keep any noise I might’ve made inside instead of out.

                John glanced up at me then, money eyes a little brighter, a little newer, than was usual, and I could tell he was fighting not to laugh at me. Admittedly, trying to kick him then probably wasn’t the greatest idea I’d ever had, especially given that he was on top of me at the time, but hey, no one’s ever remembered me for my brilliant plans. Besides, if you had an eager Marcone on top of you, you wouldn’t be thinking to clearly either; it’s one of his less endearing traits, at least to me. Anyway, after my attempt at kicking, which ended only in him becoming somehow more firmly settled between my legs, he didn’t bother to hide his laughter.

                “Harry,” he began, breath feeling unfairly nice against the skin he’d been teasing with his tongue, “You don’t have to be so stubborn. It’s far from the first time we’ve been together this way. In fact, if I recall correctly, the first time we were together this way, stubborn was the last word I would’ve used to describe you.” My flush deepened; he wasn’t precisely lying, I guess, but still.

                “Extenuating circumstances,” I grunted, moving my hand up to run through his hair. He sighed softly, his own eyes fluttering a little as his head tilted slightly toward my touch, a little like Mister normally did. I had to smile a little at the image, until he ducked his head back down to focus on what he’d been doing again. Finally his mouth descended on one nipple while his hand went to the other, and I couldn’t resist a quiet groan that he, as was usual, appreciated greatly. My hips twitched up, and he pressed down against me a little. Not enough to give me any real pleasure, obviously, because he insisted upon being a bastard even in this, but enough to tease. “You know, if you keep fucking with me, you’re not getting the present I had planned.” He paused, laying one last thoughtful lick and nip that had me twitching underneath him, and sat up a little, propping himself above me so he could look down at my face. I still say he got way too much pleasure out of it when he was able to do that.

                “Oh? Perhaps you ought to tell me what this ‘present’ is, and I’ll tell you whether or not I want it badly enough to do as you ask.” He thought I was bluffing. I didn’t blame him, to tell the truth; I _had_ tried it before, when he was being particularly frustrating and was in one of his more teasing moods. I grinned up at him, trying to pull the move Thomas could do where it looked like he was the king of the world and perfectly comfortable with that fact. Given how John’s lips twitched in the shadow of a smile. I probably didn’t pull it off quite as well.

                “I _was_ going to let you try…,” it was at this point I realized that I didn’t exactly have the word for what I was going to let him try to do. Damn it. I tried for hand gestures, but he obviously didn’t get it and probably thought I was just messing with him, which, again, I had done before. Look, we knew each other well, okay? Even before all this started. “Fucking me,” I finally said, because that was the easiest way to put it even if not completely accurate. Still, if the look he gave me, all parted lips and dilated pupils, was any indication, he understood what I meant. His thumbs had been steadily brushing over the places his mouth had abandoned ever since I started attempting hand gestures, and he’d twisted a little to one side so I could rub against his thigh if I moved just right. Obviously I was getting a little impatient by that point; anyone would’ve been, shut up. “Well?”

                He closed his mouth with a barely audible click. I could hear him breathing far more easily, the sound of it like gunshots in the dead quiet room. I’d seen things like this before, knew that he was basically putting himself back together so he didn’t say or do something he’d regret, but I didn’t exactly know why he was doing it. Normally when we were like this, even if nowhere else, he did things without thinking, and I appreciated that. Not that I didn’t understand that that this was a serious thing, of course, but I didn’t think he’d assume I was just saying it without having thought about if beforehand.

                “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, “I’m fine with this, with what we have already. Don’t force yourself into something you’re not comfortable with just to make me happy; I assure you that I’m already happier than I’ve been in years.” He might not have deserved the kicking attempt earlier, but I swear he deserved the quick punch to his arm then. I laughed, breathless, and shook my head at his shocked expression.

                “Didn’t I explain this when we got together, John? If I say you can do something, you can do it. Don’t treat me like I can’t make decisions for myself,” I said, reaching up and prodding his nose. I realized suddenly that I was probably one of the only people on the planet brave enough to poke Gentleman John on the nose, and smiled a little to myself; it was sort of a nice thing to consider. He stiffened, and finally smiled again.

                “Alright; I think I’m quite willing to listen to you for that. So, what is it you’re after?” he asked, like business negotiations were just the most sensual things ever, and I snickered a little to myself. Funny thing was, though, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was I’d been after, beyond him to just get on with it instead of teasing me for an hour. Come to think of it, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say without letting it pass through the judgment part of my brain first. Murphy did always tell me my filter was faulty, though, and generally most of my friends agreed. I think Butters was spreading it around that it was from too many concussions. Don’t be fooled by the short stature, the geekiness, and the polka, by the way; I think he’s been taking lessons in being unspeakably vicious from Thomas. John laughed like I’d finally made him go totally insane for a moment, but then nodded. “As you wish.”

                And then, then he was sliding down my body again, leaving kisses in his wake until he got to the waistband of my jeans. His fingers teased the skin he found there softly, leaving feather traces until finally he got to the button and undid it, as if he really needed to; this particular pair was big enough that they would’ve slid right off with a good tug. Probably it was a little faster the way he did it, though, and once he got them down and my shoes off, he gently pushed my thighs apart, thumbs brushing my skin teasingly.

                I breathed deeply, a little shaky as his hands grew nearer to my dick. Even that one deep breath felt a little like an impossibility, but then that wasn’t really anything new when we were like this, even if the reason was a little different this time. He glances up at me again, eyes amused as all, and /I might’ve chosen that moment to make a really unflattering comment about him, but I figured a lot of the impact would probably disappear if I sounded anywhere near as on edge as I felt.

                “I know you’re an ass, John, but don’t you think you could try to fool me into thinking otherwise for a while?” He chuckled, fingers trailing nearer to me, still teasingly soft, and whether he’d agreed to do what I wanted or not, he was just as bad as a fairy about going through with his agreements; he’d do it, yeah, but he’d damn well do it on his own terms.

                “Now Harry, who is it that always asks me to be honest with him?” I didn’t bother gracing that with a response. Also, I didn’t think I could manage another full sentence sounding even half like myself. So, I just tried to kick him again, and got the same results as before. Thomas has told me the definition of insanity before, by the way, usually about once a week or so. I’m getting really close to considering actually listening to him, too! Another ten years and it might sink in. Anyway.

                He seemed to notice my mind wandering, a little, and seeing as how me ignoring him was one of his biggest pet peeves (and generally what I did only when I was getting seriously annoyed or angry with him) he finally curled his hand around me for real, enough that I could actually feel it.

                My hips jerked up, sudden and a little harsh. Without realizing it, I’d started feeling tense enough to snap in two, and that touch had done nothing but heighten the tension, the expectation. He squeezed softly, wrist twisting slowly up and down, and I realized then that I’d been letting out quiet sounds steadily since the first touch, my body overly sensitive with the strangeness of the moment. I tried to shut my mouth, but John stopped me with a shake of his head.

                “This will be much simpler if I can hear you, Harry,” he mumbled, and I decided to listen only because he probably knew a hell of a lot more about what we were doing than I did. I laughed a little, even if I was so out of breath that it barely even sounded like a laugh. It took a lot to get me out of my depth, and a whole lot of things had been trying to make it happen for years. John, though, John had been managing it for almost a month solid. Hell’s Bells, but it was a strange realization.

                He jerked me again; I couldn’t hold back a low moan, and through half-shut eyes I managed to catch sight of his fond smile. I heard a bottle pop open, then, too loud in the relative quiet, and his hand left me for a moment, only to return a little lower, cold and damp with the slick I figured had been in the bottle he’d opened. I let my legs open a little more, or at least as much as I was able with the limited space of the couch. His one hand curled around my dick while he slid a finger of his other in me, and I hissed quietly.

                This much was familiar, yeah, and I knew I liked it with a little time, but at the start the stretch was always strange, a weird sort of tickle that I always thought should’ve hurt but never did. He moved the finger in me slowly, in time with the motion of his other hand, and I moved with him, used to this enough to know what felt best. He crooked it a little, then, seeking the spot that would bring me the most pleasure. He found it with practiced ease, and I let out a soft, keening sound that still sounded too loud in my ears. The pleasure relaxed me as it always did; I hadn’t ever imagined something could be so intense before John and I got together, and it was still a strange thing to feel. Me and relaxation didn’t mix together too often, you know?

                Still, it made me move a little more easily, more naturally against him, to care a little less about what I was doing and who I was doing it with and all those other things I always said I’d stopped worrying about because damn if I didn’t love the bastard despite all my fears. Stars, but that was something I’d have sworn I’d have never said when I came to Chicago.

                He slid another finger in me alongside the first, and that was a little less common, yeah, but he’d still done it before. My eyes closed fully so I could concentrate on just him, on just what this felt like, because I was thinking too damn much. I felt his mouth on the hollow of my hip, then, and jerked. He smiled against the skin and moved over, taking me into his mouth, hand still curled loosely around the base. I groaned, thrusting into his mouth at the suddenness of it. The noise he made then was low, a little warning, so I fought to still myself and let my own hands settle blindly on the back of his head, twisting as loose as I was able in his short, recently mussed hair. He sighed, mouth working over me slow and languid, in time with his fingers.

                I settled again, losing myself in the sensations until I was thinking of nothing but his mouth on me, his fingers in me, until he spread his fingers wide and made me yelp. He laughed around me and the vibrations set me shuddering.

                “Bastard,” I tried, but he did it again, stroking the spot inside me when he did and I realized just as suddenly that it felt _good_. I clenched my jaw to try and avoid telling him so but he did something with his tongue at the head of my dick that made that pretty much impossible. I’d have yelled at him again if I thought I could yell anything other than for him to do all of it again.

                If anyone asks why I did actually yell that, well, I was kind of incoherent by that point and not at all thinking clearly, so I certainly can’t be blamed. No matter how amused by it all John probably was when he complied. I barely even noticed when he put another finger in me, even though I hadn’t felt that since he’d had me do it myself on The Day That Is Not Spoken Of. I felt so sensitive that the soft couch scraped my skin like sandpaper, and my toes curled as I barely resisted thrusting up again. Probably I would’ve come if not for John’s hand, which tightened a little at exactly that moment and stopped me. My hands clenched a little tighter in his hair and he sighed again, so soft this time that I might not have felt it had his mouth not been where it was.

                He dragged off with a wet, obscene sounding pop, and I felt like a shuddering mess. Chances were I looked like one too, but I had my eyes shut at the time for precisely that reason. His fingers were still moving in me, a slow, easy drag, and I was still moving myself on them without even really thinking about it. He kissed my stomach softly, stroking me once, again too light for me to get anything from it.

                “You know you can stop me whenever you please, don’t you?” he asked, and I let one hand slip from his hair so I could swat his arm.

                “What did I say before, you ass?” I answered, voice low, lust-drunk and a little slurred. That made him shiver.

                “This will hurt a bit, you know,” he murmured, as if I had no idea. I opened my eyes only so I could roll them at him, and I wished I could drag him up for another kiss. He seemed to realize that and sort of seemed to want the same things, but he settled for kissing my stomach again, the gesture weirdly sweet this time as he undid his slacks enough that he could slip his own dick out, grabbed the slick, and coated himself in it. He spread his fingers one last time before he removed them, shifting me and himself carefully until he slid inside.

                It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, which probably anyone could assume; it wasn’t bad, though, just a really full, heavy feeling, and, yeah, some pain. He stayed blessedly, carefully still, fingers squeezing bruises into my hips, and the room filled with the sound of our breath. He told me to tell him when he could move, and I nodded, shifting on him a little, getting used to it. He hissed, his own eyes closing and his face twisting a little. I stilled; I didn’t hurt, really, he’d stretched me enough, and used enough lube, that the pain had stopped relatively quickly and I felt only that strangeness, and a low, simmering buzz of pleasure. I had just been given an amazing opportunity to fuck with him, though, and I got those so rarely that I really would be stupid to not take advantage.

                I wiggled again, clenched a little, tried to move, slow and stilted like I really wasn’t sure about it. His eyes clenched more, and I felt his hips twitch. I grinned, glad his eyes were shut; it would’ve been really hard to resist making expressions during this, and then he’d have realized too quickly what I was doing. I went through the little routine again, wondering how fast he’d realize it and if I’d have enough time to extract sufficient revenge for him embarrassing me as much as he had during that first time.

                His expression twisted a little more, his teeth clenched so hard that I could almost hear them grinding together, and barely resisted a chuckle. I did it again, giving a little more this time, and could feel his whole body shaking with restraint. Now, if I’d actually been doing anything more than withholding his inevitable pleasure for a few minutes, I might’ve felt bad about it, but as it stood, I was just really amused, thusly the reason why I started laughing then, and his eyes flew open, taking in the sight of me all at once. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized what I’d been doing and shook his head, chuckling a little himself and curling over me, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

                “Lucky I love you,” he whispered in my ear, and I could hear the smile in his voice so I grinned in response, twining my arms around his back.

                “Yeah, yeah; like I’m the only one who could get away with making you wait,” I said, and he laughed again, setting up a slow pace above me that made me sigh out my pleasure. It was more intense than his fingers, I could admit that, and deeper, and honestly I didn’t know why I’d waited so long to just let him go for it. After all, I’d lived my whole life on a philosophy of just going for it, and it had worked out relatively well, usually; besides, I did love John, even if it didn’t always seem like it to people who didn’t know me, and I knew he loved me too. Even if we weren’t forever, even if something happened, I wanted this, I wanted to be happy for as long as I could.

                “One of the very few,” he replied, lifting his head to look down at me, strange tilt to his mouth and happy glint in his eyes. That sweet moment there was obviously when he just decided to really go for it, pulling out until only the head of his dick remained in me and then thrusting back in, right against the place that made me see stars hard enough that I almost screamed. The lights flickered warningly overhead, but did at least stay on.

                He grinned, wild and animal and free, and leaned back, taking me with him until I was perched on his lap. I don’t know which one of us was doing the moving at that point, to tell the truth; I buried my face in his neck and scratched at his back with blunted nails, and the both of us were breathing deep and harsh and letting out low, pleasured sounds from the back of our throats. I don’t think either of us lasted as long as we would’ve liked.

                He bounced me on him once, particularly hard, going in all the way, and I did scream that time, right when I came, hard and probably ruining his shirt. He, at least, didn’t mind. The room went dark as I screamed, and stayed dark as I fell limp on his lap and he growled again, moving me on him a little more roughly than before, apparently sure at that point that he wasn’t going to hurt me, and then bit me again, like he was scared I’d run off. His fingers tensed when he came, and if I didn’t have bruises there before I sure as hell would then. Honestly that was a stranger feeling than actually having him in me, but still I didn’t exactly dislike it. We stayed like that for a while, me balanced precariously on his lap as he softened and slid out of me, the both of us breathing hard and a little unpleasantly warm.

I could honestly say that I would have no problems ending up that way again, beyond, you know, the fact that the room was totally dark and that fact didn’t seem inclined to change again any time soon. Eventually, after he got me off of him long enough to go get something to at least sort of clean us off with (since he was the only one of us who knew this apartment well enough to navigate it in the dark) we managed to make our way to the bedroom and fall down on it, the both of us curling into the other quietly.

                Never let it be said, however, that I’m the only one of us with no tact and a longstanding animosity towards letting pleasant silences lie, because he chose that precise moment to give me this really amused _look_ , eyes bright in the darkness and lips still quirked just so.

                “So, Harry, may I ask if that happens often?” he asked, pointing up at the light as if I didn’t know what he was talking about. Dark though it was, I’m still sure he was perfectly capable of seeing me blush.

                “Shut up. That might not have been me anyway; random power surges do just happen naturally sometimes, you know.” I tried to sound like I really believed that one of those random power surges had just so happened to occur right at that precise moment and probably failed miserably. He just laughed at me.

                “I’ll take that, and the fact that I’ve heard of very few power outages in your area when you had the Susan woman over, as a no. Should I be flattered, sweetheart?” I flipped him off. He laughed again. I kissed him in an attempt to make him shut up and still felt him smiling against my lips.

                “Wasn’t my fault,” I grumbled against his mouth, but when I pulled away, I was grinning too. “Unless you plan on doing that again sometime soon, in which case, yeah, I’ll totally take the blame for that one, and admit that, yes, you should be really flattered.” He grinned in return, pressing a little closer.

                “I expect that can be arranged.” It really did amaze me sometimes how well we worked, he and I, weirdness aside. I think that’s the sort of thing people always say you should just be grateful for and not question too much, though, so I figured that was probably the best option. I smiled in the darkness and settled my head on his shoulder, light and easy and something I probably wouldn’t have done if I could see him clearly.

                “Later, though. Hey, you want another present?” I asked, and could almost sense him raising an eyebrow.

                “Harry, honey, your generosity is frightening me a bit. Should I fear an imminent troll attack?” I snorted.

                “Don’t be a bastard when I’m trying to be nice. I did play a small part in the destruction of your boat, after all.” He was probably rolling his eyes at me and barely resisting the unfounded urge to blame me for it entirely again, but instead he just chuckled.

                “Alright, then. What’s your other present, then?”

                “While the lights are out, you can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer.” He stiffened, just like he had with my first offer of the night.

                “What in the world has gotten into you, Harry?” he asked me, quiet, and I shrugged.

                “I trust you, John, and I love you. I just… I don’t know how long this will work, but I _do_ feel that way, and I’ve seen what happens when I keep things even from the people I trust and the people I love. It hurt my friendship with Murphy for years, me keeping things from her; I don’t want to see what it will do to you and me. So ask me whatever you want to know, and I’ll tell you. I know you’re curious,” I explained, and he squeezed me a little more tightly like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He nodded once, serious, like he wanted to assure me that I wouldn’t regret my choice. I almost wanted to laugh; I really didn’t expect I’d end up where I was when I woke up that morning. Oddly enough, that’s how most of my days turn out.

* * *

 

                We spoke all night, that night (apparently I’d managed to blow out the power for the whole complex and about half the surrounding neighborhood, so it took a pretty good while to fix), and I told him everything. Weirdly, he returned the favor, and I realized suddenly that he trusted me too. It was sort of a heady feeling, even though it took forever to talk him down from his anger at some of the things I said.

                I’ve always thought it was weird, the sort of places I ended up in (through no fault of my own, remember), and this had to have been one of the weirdest. Probably it was a lot more pleasant than most of them, though; being with John was… well, I didn’t know what it was, exactly, only that I liked it. Now, if only I could manage to trip into a way to get Gard to quit glaring at me over the whole hydra thing, my life would be just peachy. Here’s a quick tip, before I go: don’t piss off Valkyries; they’re really incredibly strong, and their boyfriends (in addition to probably your own significant other, if they’re anything like mine) will be entirely too amused by the situation to help you. And it still wasn’t even my fault!  


End file.
